Some Came Desperate: A Love Saga (17 page)

It didn’t get any easier for Nick later that night, after he left Simone to her selfish two sisters and headed to his condo.  He dreaded leaving her, especially after meeting that kid sister of hers.  That girl was trouble with a capital T, he could tell it even before she winked at him and gave him that look many women give to him when they just know he wants them.  Delia gave him that same look sixteen years ago, at their first meeting, when he thought he was in control of their get-together.  Now it was Shay’s time, the little juvenile delinquent.  She’d be the death of Simone yet, if Simone let her.  Nick knew, however, that he wasn’t about to let her.  He also knew, however, that her love for her sister was going to make reason and good old fashioned common sense a very tough sale. 

        He entered his condo expecting some semblance of peace and quiet after a day that had stretched on too long already.  But as soon as he walked in, and whiffed a very slight smell of Delia’s perfume, he knew that peace was about the last thing he was about to get.  She rarely utilized her privilege and entered his crib when he wasn’t in.  And when she did take advantage of a privilege he gave her so many years ago, it was usually because she was distraught; it was usually because something devastating had occurred in her life.  All he needed, he thought, as he went over to his bar to pour himself a drink first.

        When he did enter his bedroom, Delia, as he had expected, was in his bed.  And, as he had expected, she was a long way from sleep.  She looked up when he walked in and tried to smile.  “Good evening,” she said.  “Hope you don’t mind.”

        Nick smiled weakly as he walked, with drink in hand, over to the bed.  He sat on its edge and looked down at Delia.  She was beautiful, still perhaps the most beautiful woman in the world to him, despite the lines of age that were beginning to penetrate her once perfectly smooth dark face.  But she wasn’t. . .  She wasn’t. . . He exhaled.  “How you doing?”

        She couldn’t even answer such a question, which meant, Nick knew, that it was too complicated to answer.  “I thought you’d be in Lisbon by now.”

        She shook her head and then covered her face with both hands.  Nick’s heart dropped.  He sat his glass on the night stand and removed her hands from her face.  “What’s the matter, babe?  What’s happened?”

        “It was awful, Nicky, you should have seen the way they treated me.”

        “Who?  The ad agency?”

        “Yes.  You would have thought it was a cover shot the way they criticized me.  It was just a measly commercial, and not even an American one.  But they were so cruel to me.  ‘Can’t we get more makeup for model number three.’  That’s what I was.  Model number three.  Not Delia.  Not any name.  Just model number three.  ‘No close shot on model number three.’  It was awful.  And those other girls, they looked so young, Nicky, so. . .  So beautiful.  So high school.”

        She looked away as just the thought of it seemed to recreate some heavy feelings. 

        He hesitated, too, seeing her pain.  “Did you finish the shoot?” he finally asked.

        She shook her head.  “Couldn’t.  It was too abusive, you should have been there, Nicky.  You wouldn’t have wanted me to stay there and take that.  So I didn’t.  I left.  I just packed my bags and left.  Gianni Versace once said I had what it takes, who did they think they were dealing with?”  She paused.  “Now Oscar’s all hot and threatening to drop me as a client, talking about how I besmirched his reputation because I refused to be abused.  I told him what he could do with his reputation, that’s what I told him.”  She closed her eyes and Nick exhaled.  No other modeling agency was going to take on a thirty-eight year old, has-been model, and they both knew it.  Oscar was all she had.  She looked at Nick.

        “What am I gonna do?” she asked him so heartfelt that his heart thumped. He ran his hand through her short, soft hair.  In times like these he used to always tell her not to worry, that there would be other jobs for her.  Now he couldn’t, because he knew it wasn’t true.

        She placed her hand on the side of his face and tried to smile, only it was a painful, anguished smile.  “I gave you the best years of my life, Nicky, the best years.”

        Nick tried to smile, too, only his was just as anguished.  “I know,” he said.

        “I could have had any man I wanted.  Every man wanted me.  But I chose you, Nicky, above all those other men.  You remember, don’t you?”

        He nodded.  “I remember.”

        “Now I’m . . .  Now it’s so hard, Nicky.   I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t like it.  I don’t like this.  I want time to stop and give me a chance to catch up.  But it won’t stop.  Will it?”

        She asked this as if there was actually a different answer to that question.  Nick didn’t bother to answer it.  And the desperation overtook her.  She grabbed him by the coat lapel.  “Kiss me, Nicky,” she begged.  “Kiss me and make the pain go away!”  She pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him urgently. 

        “Del, come on,” he said, trying to pull back from her, but she wouldn’t allow it.  She kept kissing him and pulling him closer.  It became so sad for Nick that he had to use his brute strength to force her back.  She looked at him, breathing heavily and so distraught it broke his heart. 

        “It’s all right, Delia.”

        “You don’t want me, either.”

        “Don’t say that.  You know that’s not true.”

        “You see what they say.  I’m just this old lady to you now, just this thing in your bed that you hate to even look at now.”

        “Now Delia, that’s enough.  You know good and well there’s nothing old or unattractive about you.  Modeling is a young girl’s game and you knew it when you got into it.  Thank the Lord for the years He did give to you, for that part of your life, and move on to something new.  Something completely different.  That’s what you’ve got to do.  But all of this pity party ‘I’m ancient’ nonsense has got to stop.  You have got to knock it off.”

        Delia stared at Nick and Nick stared at her.  He wanted desperately for her to hear what he was saying, to understand that there was actually life after modeling and he would support her all the way.  But he knew her.  Knew her too well.  And she hadn’t heard a word.  She stared at him with suspicious eyes, with eyes that didn’t tell her that he was thinking about her welfare, but only that he was the enemy now, too.  He wasn’t going along with her reality and that meant that he wasn’t going along with her.  She looked away from him.  And began to sob.

        “Delia,” Nick said, but she quickly cut him off.

        “Please leave me alone,” she said.  When they were younger, and she was hurting like this, he would disregard her pleas to be alone and grab her and wrap her in his arms.  But that was then.  That was before all of the years had created such gulfs in their relationship that touching her now would have been more awkward than compassionate.  And then, of course, there was Simone.

        He did as she requested, and left her alone.

THIRTEEN

The first plan, for Shay to stay with Simone, was immediately strapped on Shay’s first day back when she insisted, and Jules agreed, that she should stay with Jules.  Simone was crestfallen, she had been really looking forward to this reunion, had, in fact, set up her spare room for the occasion, but she also wanted what was best for Shay.  It was all about Shay now, and Simone wouldn’t have it any other way.                              

        But Jules enthusiasm for the arrangement quickly faded after only a few weeks in Shay’s presence.  They began arguing, about her preference for hoochie mama clothing and thuggish boyfriends, and staying out at all hours of the night.  Shay made it clear that just because she was staying under Jules roof, that didn’t make Jules her mother, and Jules insisted that as long as Shay stayed under her roof she would not disrespect her and behave any kind of way.  It all came to a head nearly a month after Shay’s return, when Jules all but begged Simone to take their kid sister in before, as she put it plainly, she “hurt that child.” 

        It was late summer and Simone was having dinner with Nick in her beautiful apartment in South Beach.  It was a celebratory dinner of sorts, one that recognized the fact that Simone was now financially able to take over the astronomical rent payments from Nick and, hopefully, began paying him back for all of the tuition and rent money he had already put out on her behalf.  Although he refused to allow her to pay him back a dime, he did agree to celebrate her new status. 

        There was another reason for the dinner, too.  Simone felt that her economic situation gave her the kind of freedom and independence that she always felt was essential if she ever was going to feel comfortable as Nick Perry’s woman.  Of course she wasn’t his woman yet, just his friend, but that definitely was her game plan now.  To become more to Nick than just a sounding board and lunch date.  She wanted to be his woman.  She wanted him, and only him, to be her man. 

        She had been attempting for weeks to get up the nerve to discuss it with him, but each and every time she’d chicken out.   Mainly because he had so much stress on him as it was, with the numerous criminal trials his law firm was trying, all of which he had to oversee, and she just couldn’t pull herself to add to his stress.  She was his stress reliever, the one person in his life who didn’t put any demands on him, and she had always cherished that role for herself.  But enough was enough.  They’d been together for nearly two years, after all, but there had been little progress that she could see.  Great progress on the friendship front.  Zero progress on the romantic front.  And she needed more from him.  Not just their weekly lunch and occasional dinner dates, not just their nightly phone conversations.  She now realized with a certainty that sometimes scared her, that she had to have more. 

        They had completed dinner and were seated on her leather couch, hugged-up as they usually ended up, watching CSI.  Nick was slouched down, staring at the TV screen, occasionally commenting on the gruesomeness that they were watching.  He was rubbing Simone’s bare upper arm in his normal, almost absent-minded way, something he did almost every night that they were together, and she was enjoying the warmth of his touch.  And that was when she decided to take the plunge.  The worse that could happen, she had already decided, was that he would stop coming around.  Which, she had the confidence to now admit, she doubted would ever happen.

        “Nick?” she said in a slow, dragging tone and looked at him.  He was engrossed in a scene on the TV, where Grissome was making some odd blood splatter discovery, and he therefore hesitated before he responded.      

        “Yes?” he finally said.

        “We’ve known each other quite a while, wouldn’t you say?”

        Another hesitation.  He was still slightly distracted by the television show, which, Simone felt, was a good thing.  No time for him to pre-screen his responses.  “I would say so, yeah.”

        “We went from a relationship of client and attorney, to good friends, to what I now consider as best friends.  Wouldn’t you say so, too?”

        “Yeah, you’re my ace boon coon, too.”

        Simone laughed.  “Your what?”

        “Old terminology, dear, don’t sweat it.”

        “But what does it mean?”

        He didn’t respond.  It was at a crucial point in Grissome’s discovery.  “Anyway,” she said nervously, glad to have the distraction of the TV, too.  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.  About us.”  His hand immediately stopped rubbing her when she said those two words.  Her heart pounded against her chest as her nerves began to unhinge her.  But she continued.  “And I believe that we’re at a point in our relationship where we needed to start thinking about other things.  Like the future.” 

        “I once wanted to be a forensic scientist, I ever tell you that?”

        She looked at him.  She knew he wasn’t trying that old trick again.  “What?”

        “I wanted to be a forensic scientist once, like Grissome, did I ever tell you that?”

        “Nick!”

        “What?  I’m just saying that that’s why I like watching CSI.”

        “Are you listening to me?”

        “Of course I’m listening to you.  I just don’t think that’s the kind of conversation we need to be concentrating on right now.”

        “In other words, what you’re saying is that we don’t need to be talking about our future right now?  Is that what you’re saying?”

        “I’m saying not now.  Alright, Simone?  Just not right now.”

        “But why?   We’re two adults.”

        “Just barely for one of us.”

        “And I think we have a great relationship.  I can’t imagine any two people closer.  What’s wrong with looking ahead?  With moving to that next level?”

        “Depends on what that next level is.”

        Nick and Simone exchanged glances.  She knew exactly what he meant.  He had mentioned it once before, almost as a joke, although Simone knew he meant it.  They were hugged-up on this very sofa when he brought it up.  “I ought to spend the night,” he had said, his face buried in her hair.  But when she responded, “you can spend the night on our wedding day,” his entire demeanor changed.  Although he didn’t stop hugging her, his grip on her loosened.  And soon he suddenly needed to go.  And before she knew what was happening to them, he had left.  He still came around, and still hugged on her and treated her as if she was still very important in his life, but he never again mentioned or even hinted at anything remotely resembling a deeper commitment - on any level. 

        “What do you define as the next level for us?” Simone asked him.  He exhaled and removed his arm from around her.  He leaned forward and did as he usually did when he was suddenly stressed: he pulled out a cigarette.

        “Let’s just keep it simple, Simone,” he said.  “The rest will take care of itself.”

        “We need to talk about this, Nick.”

        “I know that.  I know we do.  And we will.”

        “Just not tonight.”

        “Not tonight.”  He lit up and took a long, slow drag. 

        “I’m not getting any younger,” Simone said, which caused him to chuckle.  “I’m serious!  I don’t want to spend the best years of my life with a man who suddenly doesn’t want me anymore.”

        Nick’s heart dropped.  It was almost the exact same argument Delia had made to him a month ago.  “I’ve given you the best years of my life,” she had said.  Although Delia didn’t go as far as Simone was going, there was no hint of that ‘marry me’ tone in Delia’s plea, he could tell that something was changing with her. 

        “Nick?” Simone said when he didn’t respond.

        “I’m right here, Simone.”

        “What about our future?”

        “Our future is not for us to say, Simone.”

        “You know what I mean.  Are we together?  Are we going to be together?  Or is this as good as it’s going to get for me?”

        And that was when the doorbell rang.  Nick inwardly sighed relief, saved by that bell, but Simone outwardly groaned.  This was all that she needed.

        She was surprised to see that Shay was with Jules and Shay was carrying luggage.  “You’ve got to take her, Simmie,” Jules said before Simone could say a word. 

        “What’s going on?” Simone asked.

        “You’ve got to take her before I hurt this child.”

        “You ain’t hurtin’ me,” Shay said and Jules looked at her. 

        “Say another word, Shay, and I swear you’re going through that door like a rocket off of a launch pad!”

        “Y’all come in,” Simone said, to cool them down, and they both reluctantly walked in.   When they saw that Nick was there, standing up now, they reacted completely differently: Jules sighed and Shay smiled.

        “Hello, Nick,” Shay said jovially.  But Nick was not amused.

        “It’s Mr. Perry to you, young lady,” he said and Shay rolled her eyes.  “Hello, Jules.”

        “Hey, Nick, how you doing?”

        “I’m good.  I take it you’re not.”

        “She’s driving me crazy, I’m telling y’all.  She’s hanging around drug dealers---”  

        “They ain’t no drug dealers,” Shay shot back, “I don’t know why you trippin’, Jules.  Just because they ain’t doctors and lawyers and hang out with your little crowd they got to be drug dealers and thugs?”

        “They are thugs.”

        “You don’t even know any of my friends.”

        “You haven’t been here long enough to have friends.  Those boys just want one thing and one thing only, a desire you seem more than willing to accommodate.”

        “You can kiss my---”

        “Shay!” Simone practically yelled.  “That’s enough!”

        “Where’s my room?” Shay asked as if she was flustered beyond words.

        “I thought you wanted to stay with Jules.”

        “She can’t stay with me.  You should see the way she behaves around me.  Jeremy nearly. . . ”

        “Un hun, why you stopped?” Shay asked.  “Jeremy nearly jumped on me, that’s what she wanted to tell y’all.  That sorry excuse for a doctor came at me like he was going to bust a move on me and I bet you I got right back in his face.  He ain’t right, anyway.  Always trying to hit on me.”

        “That’s a lie!” Jules nearly screamed.

        “If I’m lyin’ I’m flyin’!” Shay shouted back.  “He just mad because I don’t want his old behind, that’s why he suddenly don’t want me there with you.  That’s what this all about.  Jeremy said I got to go.  Jules wasn’t thinking about putting me out, until Jeremy showed up.”

        “Are you gonna take her or not?” Jules asked Simone. 

        “And if she doesn’t take her in?” Nick asked and everybody looked at him. 

        “Then there’s always homeless shelters because she ain’t coming back to my place.  She’s too disrespectful.”

        “Whatever, Jules,” Shay said, and Simone let out an enormous sigh of frustration.  Jules should have let her take Shay in from jump, she felt, before it got to this crazy point.  Now she didn’t see how she could handle Shay, either.  But what could she do?  Let her down again?

        “She’s welcome here,” she said and Shay looked at her.  “The spare bedroom is down the hall and to the right.”